Sugar Crash

So the results of my glucose test are in and I screened positive and bought myself a 3 hour test. One hour after ingesting 50 Grams of glucola, my sugar was 159 and it needed to be below 130 or 140 (depending who you ask.) Now I go back for the 100-Gram, 3 hour, 3 blood draw test.

I'm better now, but this news sent me into a little psychological tailspin. First of all, underneath all of that laid back lethargy, there's a little perfectionist that runs things inside of me. Second, I know enough about diabetes to know that gestational diabetes is a huge risk factor for developing the illness later in life. So, I ran the marathon of denial starting at the "I'm sure I will pass the 3 hour test" pistol firing. I hit the early "I had a potato roll with peanut butter for breakfast- what did they expect" marker. And I finished the race soundly with an insane push: "I'd rather take insulin than change my diet." After the requisite recovery time I reflected on the craziness of that journey.

There wasn't just the continuum of denial, I got about 200 steps too far ahead of myself imagining a life of chronic illness, and for the first time in weeks, I felt sick. My head hurt. I felt woozy. I was tired, sluggish, and was having a little trouble breathing. Pathetic. I like to think I handle bad news well, and this was an example of handling the thought of bad news poorly.

I knew inside myself that these symptoms were psychosomatic and I needed to chill out, but I couldn't break out of it until the next morning. And then I had to face the day with puffy eye lids and dried tear ducts. Looking on the bright side, I noted amazing friends and co-workers and a super supportive spouse. They each took the opportunity to calm me, reassure me, make me laugh, and remind me I could handle whatever happened. They told me to chill out, to stop taking myself too seriously, to trust my body, and one even encouraged me to live the offered experience of really imagining life with a chronic illness- to benefit me as a health care provider and as a human. Most of them- blessedly- also offered me something sweet or carb-y to eat.

The tapas dinner

pix

FACT: I love taking photographs. I have a fancy camera (I think it's fancy despite the snickering that I can hear from my brother all the way across the continent) and I need to use it more, get used to it, push it, learn it, so when my child arrives I'm not swearing at the camera every time I try to take his picture.


FACT: I have two fave blogs that have new pictures almost every day (here and here). I love seeing their photos and getting ideas and being inspired.

So, I'm going to try (hard, i promise) to do at LEAST one photo of the week, and work my way up to a photo a day. Somedays you might see a few more from one particular outing or somedays none.

This post is just the announcement. Photos to follow.

The pregnant belly

There has been some serious demand for a picture of my wife's belly so, with her permission, here it is:




Smokin' pregnant lady, just sayin'.

6 month OB appt.

Met a new doctor yesterday. A tall, serious drink of water (TSDW).
Dr. M-D seemed to jump and prance around during a very short visit. Dr. TSDW stood like a tree and took a tiny bit more time.

All is well.

Weight is up 1.5 lbs since last month- brings the total increase from the first prenatal visit up to 6lbs. (This despite eating 4 hot dogs this weekend and one of the most decadent meal I've ever created/ingested on Saturday night.)

BP: 124/76

Urine: normal

Fundal height: normal @ 24 cm
SIDE NOTE: Why measure fundal ht in metric units but weight in lbs?!? The ever elusive science/culture wars...

Fetal heart rate: strong and regular, around 160 bpm.

The baby was moving all about during the abdominal exam. He was quiet until the MD put the Doppler jelly on my skin and I laughed knowing that he was going to try to kick Dr. TSDW. The heartbeat was loud but there was also some kind of crazy galloping noise and Dr. TSDW was like, "Whoa- he is really moving around in there!!!" 'YOU DON'T KNOW THE HALF OF IT,' I shouted in my mind, smiling. He said, "That's good- that's a sign of a healthy baby."

Q and A Session:
TT: Do I have to be worried about activity, doing yard work, golf, etc... I take it slow. I am staying well hydrated, I am feeling well, and I am not having any specific discomfort. I am getting some flack from people who think I shouldn't be this active.

Dr. TSDW: The guide for activity is, don't do anything where you are at risk for falling, like- riding a bike, mountain climbing, OR rugby*... we worry about falls b/c that puts you and the baby at risk. Other than that, like you said, stay hydrated, monitor your pulse and slow down if your pulse goes higher than 140-150 bpm.

TT: What's all this I've been reading about needing to sleep on your left side? Will my body know when this is important? Will I get light-headed if I am sleeping on my back and I shouldn't be, or is this a symptomless concern.
TSDW: **You'll get light-headed or won't be able to breathe if you are on your back and shouldn't be.

TT: We signed up for prenatal classes and Catholic Hospital marketing materials say 2 people are allowed to be with me when I'm in labor... I talked to Dr. KSBL about not wanting to be limited on how many people can be with me during a normal labor- in your experience, is this going to be a problem at Catholic Hospital.
TSDW: No. For the most part no. The hospital wants to be able to reserve the right to remove any family members that are disruptive to the unit and laboring process. ***

* The word Rugby was added by me for comedic affect, Dr TSDW is too serious to be this witty
** I am paraphrasing for the sake of brevity
*** Again, this is my version of his clumsy and kind-of-long answer

In the next few days or weeks, I have to get my 1 hr glucose test. This is a little worrisome for me b/c I know that if you develop gestational diabetes, you are very likely to develop insulin resistant, type 2 diabetes later in life... I don't want that. A lot of people I know have "failed" the one hour glucose test and had to take the 3 hour test which they "passed". I know this isn't a matter of "passing" or "failing" and all that matters is that my glucose levels are controlled so that baby boy bean doesn't get too big before it's time to be born, but I really want to "PASS" this one! Wish me luck!

A year in the life

Today is my dear Tracy's birthday.

It has been a very "human year" to quote my lovely wife. We've seen some serious lows that we weren't sure we could handle, and now, some amazing highs and a lot of hope for the future.

This year has been a lot about faith, and when I say that I mean Tracy's faith for the most part. She consistently believes in the good of others (even those that are blocking her way in the fast lane) and, despite some big gut checks, believes that everything will be as it should.

Our dear readers get to see a smidgen of her wit and superb writing skills, I get the distinct privilege of watching that wit take shape in the form of grumpy comments, joyous hellos (the now familiar "We're home!" each evening), hilarious faces (soon I'll show you the one where she tries to show what our baby looks like in utero), and pure down home good lovin', not to mention the incredible poise she has had throughout this pregnancy. She looks and radiates wonderful.

Happy Birthday baby! Here's to another crazy year. I love you.

"33"

Tonight I'm saying goodbye to my jesus year...

I'm a little sad about it.

Not sad to be getting older, and certainly not sad anticipating all the things that lie ahead this, next year. I'm surprised at how I've sort of started to enjoy watching the number that designates my age climb. There was a while where it seemed to be hard when that happened. And though I still whisper to myself each year: "not everyone gets to turn (insert age)," I'm proud of my years. Like my gray hairs, I've earned each one.

Though this last year was long and at times painful, it was mostly wonderful and full of very human, very fleshy, and ultimately- very life affirming experiences. Kt and i learned a little bit more about what marriage is all about. We spent a week at the beach with my family. We spent a week in Spain with her family. I watched in awe all year as my niece learned to laugh and eat, and walk, and to call out to us by name. We lost some dear friends to death, said goodbye as some moved far away, and rejoiced as several welcomed new babies into the world. We savored time with friends all year long. We grew our family figuratively and literally. We planted a bean that is currently turning into a boy.

I'm definately going to miss singing along with Five for Fighting: 100 years, especially this line:

I'm 33 for a moment.
Still "the man"
but you see I'm a "they"
A kid on the way -
a family on my mind.

I'm sure I'll still sing along when I hear the song, but I'll sing- knowing that this one, sweet moment (acknowledged, enjoyed, reveled in, blessed) has gently passed by.

I couldn't have asked for a more poignant year (which in my opinion is what a jesus-year is all about.)

The other shoe...

This Saturday something happened that I've been expecting since before the trip to Barcelona and before the ultrasound... I experienced a day of panic, a day of melancholy, a day of sweaty, dripping self doubt and insecurity. I'm like this. A lot of people think the hilarity never ends with me, but I fall into deep caverns of what can best be described as self-loathing and it usually occurs in the midst of what can otherwise be described as a perfect life. It might be chemical or genetic or hormonal, but waiting for the other shoe to drop is most certainly something I've picked up over the course of a honey-kissed existence that has been dimpled by infrequent but tragic and traumatic events.

So I wandered around yesterday feeling quite alone, though my baby would NOT stop kicking me from within, and my boo would not stop telling me she loved everything about me. I worried about money and time and illness and my friends. I worried about not following through with housework and chores and familial obligations, professional duties, volunteer assignments, and not planning out or properly plodding toward unrealized dreams. I worried about letting everyone down, being a failure and a disappointment. I worried that my parents love my sister more than they love me and mentally thumbed through all the reasons and evidence of that possibility. I worried about wasting talents and opportunities. I worried about mental illness and depression and what it might mean that I felt so down, and couldn't snap out of it. I felt inexplicably scared and damaged. And frankly, I spent some time feeling surprised that it took so long for this day to come. When things are going well, it's not like me to feel all that safe. I've learned that is precisely the time to be vigilant against sorrow and mentally prepare for let down. But this pregnancy has been a little different. I've been remarkable calm and haven't so much as smelled a whiff of a dirty sneaker hanging over my head waiting to fall. With every bit of good news, breathing has been easier, peace has seemed tangible, happiness has seemed ordinary.

Yesterday was scary.

But today was different. Today was a morning of laughing with family, an afternoon of yard work, and an evening of movie-watching on the couch with my baby (and our baby.) Productivity lightens an anxious heart. Today I was out there mowing and planting and weeding and sweating. Getting out of my head a little and into my body. Today I felt full- experiencing all that has gotten into and is growing in my body- without thinking too much about it. I guess it's okay if the doldrums come every once in a while...

Let the shoes fall where they may.

--------------------

PS- That was a statement of faith, not a challenge to God or the winds of fate

For the folks at home

This won't be as entertaining as the last post, but I wanted to give a shout out to the softball peeps before I head to bed... love you gals!

Invasion of the boobie snatchers

The end of last week I experienced a brief interruption of a little something I like to call, "Isn't the second trimester a fucking awesomely happy time?!?" I mean, I have been feeling GREAT:
Not too tired,
not too proud to take a nap.
Not too hungry,
not too enormous.
I've been growing
but feeling light;
Busy-
but not hassled;
and very "shmoopy" (translation: cuddly, giggly, relaxed, intimate, comfy, affectionate...) here at home with my pretty wife.

My body is doing the pregnancy thing.
My body is doing me proud.
And my brain has had the good sense (for the most part) to just stay out of it... To let go, to not freak out or try to control things that are happening on what is mostly an ancient, organic, physical, and spiritual journey. And I've been feeling well (knock on wood):
No colds or respiratory problems
Nothing more than minor body aches and pains
Limited interruptions in activity
Sleeping well through the night
No experience of anxiety and/or depression
No interruption in digestion...

Thursday into Friday of last week, though, I got all bound up. It didn't last long and by medical standards, it wasn't like I could have been diagnosed as "constipated," (trains were still pulling out of the station, if you know what I mean,) but I'm telling you the shit was stuck up in there and it didn't feel good.

Zen went out the window too. I was less focused on what was happening and I was obsessed with the more detailed, abstract picture- which I think can be best summarized as: "If this is how some minor constipation is affecting my overall mood and sense of health, the third trimester is going to suck!!!" You see how I jump way ahead of myself there? Applying freakish, and unnecessary generalizations? Planning for the worst? Ignoring all that has gone right so far and assuming that things will suddenly shift course? It's not the best way to live... and so I'm here trying to re-align the experience.

First of all, my own home remedy for a "touch of constipation":
1) Drink more water
2) Snack on a few dried prunes
3) Incorporate a McD's Big Mac into one noon-time meal
worked like a charm and all has been flowing smooth since. More importantly, that disturbing mental image of the baby fighting a dung heap for space in my abdomen has also dissipated.

There is a lot about pregnancy that is expected but totally bizarre. Expected, if you read a book or two, or even a short article in a baby magazine. You quickly learn that most things that would normally send you RUNNING to an oncologist or neurologist's office, are perfectly normal during pregnancy.

If, as previously mentioned, you have an interruption in your elimination pattern... gas, indigestion, constipation, distortion in how food tastes, new food aversions, food cravings (including but not limited to a desire to eat clay, dirt, and cigarette butts...) Any and all changes in your experience of dining, salivation, mastication, and digestion are completely normal.

That is the answer. No book feels the need to give you a more detailed explanation. (Some books will go the extra "we-don't-wanna-get-sued-for-this" mile and add a list of all the horrific and unlikely things that might be killing you and/or causing harm to your baby before adding that your fill-in-the-blank-symptom is a "completely normal" part of pregnancy.)

If your hair and fingernails start growing like a werewolf? Normal.
If your shoes don't fit and your feet jump a size? Normal.
If you are tired? Normal
If you are energetic? Standard
If your mood is calm and consistent, or swings like a vine? All are to be expected.
If you lose your balance, experience vertigo, or a change in personality? Not a problem.
If you are full of joy? You are normal.
If you are full of fear? Also normal.
If you are horny? It is the hormones.
If you are not horny? Is is also the NORMAL functioning of hormones.

As your belly grows, as the kid starts doing half-gainers inside of your womb, as the general construction of your pelvis starts to change and your ligaments slowly come undone to make room for the baby to birth out, there is an innate security system that alarms. A sensible, body-and-soul-protecting brain, detecting these physical changes might begin a conversation: "Hello, you... It's your brain. (Warning. Warning. Warning.) I detect we might have encountered a problem. (Warning. Warning. Warning.) We may be in the throws of what will ultimately overload and destroy the entire system. (Warning. Warning. Warning.)" It seems fair that anxiety in pregnancy is nothing more than a healthy consciousness warning of danger ahead.

But the brain is not just a linear machine extrapolating diagnostic information, computing risk-analysis, and mapping out strategic plans, there is an imagination center and there are chemicals in there too. The psychedelic pimp part of your brain doesn't even offer drugs, he just pumps them into the air. The defcon 4 light seems more calming blue than burning red and the backround noise "(Warning. Warning. Warning)" sounds much more Norah Jones: "(Come away with me)." The computer's passionless voice is drowned out by a sexy, sweet: "Here sister, have some endorphins... relax, enjoy the ride..."

The one change that has totally freaked me out and pushed the limits of what I am ready to accept as normal, has to do with nipple reassignment. The books have not been as descriptive as I am about to be- but they have all told me, this is a normal part of pregnancy and motherhood...

My nipples have migrated south- most likely forever. My boobs- large by any standards, have nearly doubled in mass and capacity. They are by far (and have been for months) the most "pregnant" thing about me. Most disturbing is not the change in proportion, but the change in shape and (as I have alluded) the change in nipple location. I can't lean over a table or chair without jumping up in surprise as I have scraped a nipple or two. While naked, I can't locate the things without manually raising my mounds in inspection. And then when my gaze falls upon the new nipples, I cannot recognize them as something that is attached to my body. A few months ago, Katy rolled toward me from her edge of our queen size bed and I yelped: "YOU'RE ON MY NIPPLES!!!" She jumped back with good reaction time, and shifted her weight that somehow still set down on nipple-land.
"How??? I'm not even near you?!?"
"I don't know," I replied, "I don't know where they are... But you are ON THEM!"

Seriously, I know why this is happening, I understand the evolutionary science behind it... but HOW? If I was one of these people that didn't know I was pregnant and was ignorant or in denial of my pregnancy symptoms, and didn't realize I had missed 5 menstrual cycles, my nipples would have had me seeking medical attention, and single double-handedly prevented me from "unexpectedly" birthing a baby in the toilet one day next fall... They are just absolutely foreign and changed: They literally sway and point in new directions. They have changed so much, that I'm convinced a totally innocent version of me would know that something bigger was coming. If I lived in the time of cave people and/or in a societal vacuum when all humans older than me had died before they could write books or teach me what they knew about pregnancy and lactation, I think the day that milk suddenly started spraying out of my breasts, I would have no choice but to slap my head and say, "I guess i should have seen this coming."

Ruffles and ginghum and flowers, oh my!

A word about maternity clothes:



There seriously needs to be a butchier line of maternity clothes...

Not just for the lesbians, either. I know a lot of people that don't wear any more floral patterns or ruffles than I do - it's got nothing to do with which gender makes your mouth water. There will be a perfectly reasonable maternity shirt or pair of band-waisted pants that will come only in totally insane fabrics or with a jacked up, femmed-out, or silly-ruffled collars!



I just can't partake... I just can't suddenly start doing the ruffle thing. It's not in my nature.

Question: Are there pregnant women that work?
Finding appropriate corporate wear -who am I kidding?- "corporate CASUAL" is difficult. It seems most women buying maternity clothes need to only dress for long walks in the park and/or play or study groups.

Here's a little something listed under "work wear":



True, this is a little fancy for a walk in the park. But what is her line of business? Selling perfume?!?

I'll admit that some of my trouble stems from the fact that my favorite place to shop is off the boys sales rack at Gap. Still, I maintain that the fact that my uterus is stretching to planetary proportions is enough to prove I'm a girl... I don't need to cultivate a botanical garden on my chest, and it is equally unnecessary for my clothes suddenly sprout ruffles.



Gingham... I'm trying not to even go there.
I haven't seen gingham on anything other than pocketbooks or shower curtains in the mall in the last 20 years. But every maternity department so far has a little section that looks like Dawn Wells' dressing room.

One more: Peasant blouses.
I am not a peasant. I've worked hard, as did my parents (and my parents' parents before them) for me to be able to report this economic reality. I have no animosity toward peasants of any kind. I do find myself holding in comtempt the maternity wear industry who seem to be disproportionally interested in supplying peasants with blouses.

I have to ask... when they are pregnant and shopping, Where do all the cowboys go???

Mid-nite update

I feel bloated, have indigestion, a bout of insomnia, and a baby rolling around inside of me - who every once in a while gives a good, yet unexpected and unpredictable whack - thumping me from the inside.

Lately, I have felt GREAT. Full of calm, comfortable, energetic, well rested, excited, balanced, grateful for the not-too-hot, sunny days... Riding high on life.

For the last 2 hours, I have been up and down to the bathroom, tossing and turning in the bed, burping, popping tums, and generally feeling restless, tired, and grumpy.

A friend of my sisters passed away earlier this week after a horrible infection randomly attacked her heart and organs. She was 31.

So that is on my mind- just the sadness of it; and because... the instability and frailty of existence that is illuminated when a life like hers ends, can at times be overwhelming. Even though, intellectually, you know a story like hers is supposed to strengthen your resolve, add to your heart, and help you count your blessings... (Sometimes my "pansy-assed" gut, can't keep up with the grand notions of of my mind.)

Tomorrow is the last day of what has been a very intense work week, and I can't wait for it to be over. I have a massage scheduled for 6:45 to kick the weekend off right, and that seems like the best thing I've coordinated for my body, baby, and psyche in a good, long while. Early on saturday, katy and I are on Breakfast/grill duty at Relay for Life and then we are meeting wtih a documentary film-maker to (?) be taped about our (?) homosexual marriage- something that can hopefully be used later as part of the CT marriage equality movement.

With any luck, I'll find time to hit some golf balls this weekend too.
Now, that i've vented, let's try this sleep thing again...
;)

5 month OB appointment

Last Wednesday was our 5 month OB check up. It was a little anti-climactic as it immediately following the ultrasound. It was also one of the quickest MD appointments on record. I arrived at 11:40 for an 11:45 appointment:

Check in and sit down to wait in an unusually empty waiting room (30 seconds)
Taken into the exam room, BP and wt checked (120 seconds)
Go to bathroom to leave a urine sample (150 seconds)
Wait for the Doc (not more than 3 minutes)
Complete exam (not more than 4 minutes)
Q and A period (120 seconds)
Schedule 2 future appointments (120 seconds)
I left the office by 11:56

We met one of the other doctors on the delivery rotation. (We are trying to meet all the providers that might deliver me) but to be honest, if we didn't care about meeting all those other clinicians, it is really difficult to get an appointment with Dr KSBL, who is my "primary." Now I see why her panel is closed. I'm glad I got in with Dr. KSBL, but I have to wonder why they opened her panel for pregnant ladies- when it is closed for regular GYN patients- if she never has any appointment openings. Anyway, I digress...

The doc we saw was a cute, friendly leprechaun of a man. We'll call him... Dr. Magically-Delicious. Whenever Dr. M-D spoke, I heard an Irish brogue, even though he had no accent. He all but had to reach up to the exam table to listen to the now-deafening sound of our baby's heartbeat.

He asked if we knew what we were having and nodded in excitement when we told him a boy. (The office had not gotten the results of the u/s that was only done a few hrs before.) Dr M-D was so cute I nearly patted him on the head on my way out of the office.

Vital statistics...
BP: 126/80
Urine: clean (no protein, no sugar)
Weight: up 1/2 lb from last visit
Fundal height: 21 cm (right where he said it should measure at the 21st week)
Fetal Heartbeat: Strong 160 bpm

What's all the ruckus?

As Tracy mentioned, we had our ultrasound on Wednesday. It was something of a surreal experience seeing all the insides of Tracy, first of all, and our baby, second of all. The baby looked fantastic - 4 chambers in the heart, brain inside a skull, stomach bubble (seen on ultrasound because it's filled with amniotic fluid), and the placenta and umbilical cord in the right places. It was great to see it all there. But the thing that made us tear up immediately was the kid's genitals. There was no doubt on the picture what it is, so we found out.

We're having a little boy.



It's strange because you'd think we, health care professionals, would be more inspired by the fact that our child is generally anatomically correct, but no, it was the gender that made us cry with joy. I guess that speaks to the way that gender is ingrained in us in all of society and spirit. Gender is, after all, the very first way we separate and stereotype each other. We tried to work through why it meant so much emotionally to know, and we both agree that after 20 plus weeks of just having faith that it was all ok in there, we got to see some picture proof that the kid is healthy, and knowing that it's a boy, while allowing us to stop thinking along one huge track (i.e. the girl one), allows us to relate in a different way. Not to mention everyone we know: the response is always like I just announced that we had the baby. Like it was somehow different than the day before. But somehow, it is.

So, despite my brazen comments about not finding out, we know. And now so do all of you.

I felt him kicking Tracy for the first time Thursday night and several times since. It's so cool! A little weird, but cool. Last night he was moving around a lot and Tracy exclaimed, "What's all the ruckus?!?!" Even on the ultrasound it's amazing to see how much room there isn't inside there. But there he is, a perfect little human, weighing approximately 14 ounces, and measuring in the 49th percentile. As Tracy says, that kid can just stay average until he is out of her!

Photos... finally

Here's the film loop from our trip to Barcelona:

Busy week

So many things have happened In the last 7 days:

1) We came home from Spain
2) Attended Yale graduation
3) Had Kt's parents staying over
4) Enjoyed a cookout with Kt's parents, Dad, Gram, and some BFFs
5) Had our upstairs bathroom ceiling redone (see #3)
6) Got our garden and lawn back in order (see #3)
7) Returned to work
8) I felt the baby move for the first time
9) We had the ultrasound (more to follow)
10) I had my 5 month check up (more to follow)
11) Katy felt the baby move
12) We had a big picnic with our families
13) Katy played in a softball game that required her to provide some emergency medical treatment.
14) We saw Katy's parents off, back to Ohio
15) We spent an evening catching up (via phone) with the womb whisperer and our California cousins
16) We finished the work-week
17) We caught the opening night of the CT gay and lesbian film festival

So much has happened that yesterday I had this conversation at work:
Colleague: How was your trip?
Me: Trip?? (pause) Um, what trip?
C: Didn't you go to Spain?
Me: Oh ya, it was fantastic

How quickly we I forget...